Title: Out of the Safety of the Wood
Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir
Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are attacked, and
Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for death.
Rating: R
Warning: Violence/torture, bdsm, rape, and all that good stuff. I've decided to go further into this
fic and explore the realm where Legolas is in a non-consensual Master/Slave relationship.
Eventual slash! Though nothing really graphic will be placed in this version of the story, as I must
heed the rating rules of FF.net.
Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however, belongs to Dollrandir.
All the other icky bad guys are mine!
No Tears' Notes: And here's – astonishingly enough – a new chapter! I have no other messages except that thoughts are now in italics. I will fix the previous chapters when I find the time. I'm also afraid this chapter ends in a bit of a cliffhanger...but at least I got it up!
Part 6: Further Despair
Legolas remained still as he was scrubbed by the servants, his eyes distant as he tried to imagine himself to be anywhere but here. Which was considerably difficult, considering the intense thirst he was feeling coupled with the shackles whose short chain was connected to a ring that forced him to kneel and kept his hands securely before him. That, and also the guards whose mocking laughter and lustful glances which caused shudders of fury to run through his body.
Letting out a slow and shaky breath through his mouth, Legolas clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes. The scent of the water was nearly overpowering, and his throat seemed to become even more dry. He had been threatened by one of the guards that if he even dared to try and drink it he would be gagged. So all he could do to avoid punishment was sit there and try to suppress the furious snarls working their way up his throat at the laughter he was receiving for his debasement.
Soft cloths wet with warm water ran up and down his back. One of the servants moved around the bath and began to wipe the cloth across his face. Legolas knew that the people cleaning him were as much prisoners as he, that they had no choice but to do their lord's bidding. Despite this, he could not hold back the glare that shot out at the woman cleaning his face. He caught himself and softened his gaze, but not before she saw the anger in his eyes. The woman froze in fear, then after a moment backed up and hurried out of the hall. The other servants paused in their cleaning, and Legolas furiously berated himself for his rash action.
The feelings of hopelessness and fear were gnawing sharply at his heart after having spent time in the kennel. He could not deny it to himself and he did not try to. But he would not simply give in to these people, and so he used as much of the fear as possible to fuel his rage and hate. The anger overrode sorrow and fear, giving him reason to continue fighting.
Suddenly, a hand was grasping a handful of his golden hair, and then he was being forced to look up into the dark eyes of the one who had forced him into this degrading situation.
"Well, well, well!" Dantar's voice made Legolas grit his teeth in vexation. "We meet again, Elfling! And it looks like your stirring up trouble already among the other servants. You'd best start to behave yourself, slave."
"I am no slave." Legolas spat.
"Ah, but you are." the red haired man said. "Not a willing one, at least, not now. That too, shall change eventually."
Legolas's eyes sparked with ferocity, and he could barely contain himself from attempting to lunge at the man. "I would rather die."
Dantar's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Is that so?" he asked. "Well, I have news for you, Elfling." He bent so that his face was mere inches from Legolas's, using his free hand to grab the Elf's chin in a firm grip. "If you stay defiant, what you shall go through will, in fact, be worse than death. I can guarantee it."
Legolas believed every word of it, but he would not surrender himself to the other man's gaze. He was not beaten yet, and he was wanted as a slave and not dead. His father would dispatch Elves to search for him eventually. In the mean time, he would do everything he could to find a way to escape. He would not give up on hope.
'A plague on you.' Legolas hissed in Sindarin. 'May your death be long and painful and your rotting carcass become carrion for the worms and crows.'
It was clear that Dantar hadn't the slightest clue of what Legolas had just said, but judging from the tone he knew it was either an insult or a threat. His ire rising, he gave the Elf's hair a particularly painful jerk, before releasing it and giving the prisoner a violent backhand that sent Legolas falling awkwardly onto his back. Water rushed over his face and he accidentally inhaled some, which caused him to go into a coughing fit as he struggled to sit himself up again. He wiped the water and hair back from his eyes after his coughing subsided and glared at Dantar, who returned the expression in kind.
The taste of water in Legolas's mouth immediately caught his attention and he felt his body cry out for more of the precious liquid. Using a great deal of willpower, Legolas restrained his urge to drink and continued to glare at Dantar.
"Do not cross me, slave. I was not lying before when I told you I know how to make an Elf scream." A smirk formed over the man's face. "Speaking of which, I heard you were recently acquainted with the kennel." He chuckled a bit at the flash of consternation in the young prince's eyes at his words. "Yes, as you've probably guessed now, it was because of I that you were placed there. Do you know how I came up with the amount of time to keep you imprisoned? It was one day for each action of rebellion you commenced before your master. One day for denying him in his throne room. One day for speaking defiantly to him in his chambers. And one day for resisting him when he kissed you. Faregon is to alert me of any defiance you give, and you will be justly punished for it."
"Justly?" Legolas hissed bitterly.
"Yes," Dantar insisted, "justly. You are a slave now by law. All of the forms have been signed, all of the right people informed. Even if you do manage to escape – unlikely – you would be searched out immediately and found."
"No laws of Elves are these!" the prince said, his mind reeling with the information. "You cannot keep me here!" He jerked once against the chains holding him down.
"Ah ah." Dantar admonished, holding up his hand. "Two hours in the kennel for that show of disrespect."
Legolas couldn't help his jaw dropping for a second as his eyes filled with fear at the thought of being returned to that dark place. "You are mad." the prince grated, now shaking with rage.
"Four hours." Dantar said, folding his arms as he began to circle Legolas. "By all means, continue with this. Personally, I am curious to see how long you can keep up your strength without food. Without water." Now behind the prince, the man bent down to whisper into one pointed ear. "Without anything at all but the crushing walls and choking silence around you."
Legolas let out an involuntary shudder as the feeling of being trapped jumped clear into his mind with the words. He did not think he could go through with the ordeal of being in the kennel for that long again. And Dantar was right – his thirst was escalating and it would not be long before his dehydrated body would begin to heighten its cries for replenishment until he would be unable to do anything to ignore it.
"I trust you are done?" Dantar asked, his eyes hard when he came to stand before Legolas once more. The prince looked up at the man, the gaze still holding defiance and anger but with an underlying tone of defeat. This side of Dantar was dangerous, and he realized he would have to act with utmost wariness around the man. Averting his gaze to the water below him, the Elf slowly nodded once.
"Very well," the man continued. He looked to the guards nearby. "Prepare the slave for another period of confinement in the kennel."
Legolas's eyes widened and shot back up to Dantar, who smiled indifferently. "One thing you must learn, slave, is that I withdraw no promise of punishment. If I say it shall be done, it will be done."
No... Legolas frantically looked about at the four men approaching him, thrashing as they laid hands upon his upper body. Someone grabbed his jaw and attempted to pry it open at the hinges just as he saw the cruel ball gag dangled before his face. He clenched his jaw and fought harder, felt hands grasping his hair and shoulders harshly to keep a hold on his slippery wet body. The fingers on his jaw increased their pressure relentlessly, until he felt tears welling up in his eyes from the pain.
Over the sounds of the struggle he heard Dantar call out, "Six hours."
As soon as the words reached Legolas he froze, his heart hammering with adrenaline and desperate fear. His eyes, large and blue, looked to Dantar, dismay and shock filling their depths.
The man's expression was absolutely apathetic. "How much longer do you wish for?"
Choking back a sob, the prince shut his eyes tightly, allowing them to force the gag in his mouth and secure it in place. His jaw gave a spasm of pain as the leather ball forced it wide, and Legolas shut his eyes even tighter at the sensation.
This could not be happening. It was simply a nightmare and he was going to wake up soon and find himself in his safe, warm bed in Mirkwood.
"Now the hood."
Please, no... Legolas opened his eyes to gaze helplessly at the black hood being brought forth. Fearful of being sentenced to even more hours, the prince only weakly tossed his head to the side as they moved to force it over him. Darkness descended and he choked back a whimper as he felt someone fumbling with it and then a moment later the cloth tightened against his neck. The fabric clung to his wet face, making it harder to breathe and he could already feel claustrophobia set in.
Hands were everywhere on him, holding his body down and restraining his arms with hurting hands as they unlocked his wrists from their bonds. Not a moment later his arms were wrenched around and behind his body and locked into place. His shoulders ached in protest as they were made to resume the position they had taken up for such a long period of time. A pair of hands wrapped around each of his arms and hauled his dripping body out of the tub, pulling him out of it and forcing him along as his heart pounded in growing dread.
Behind him, he heard Dantar's voice. "I shall see you in some hours, dear slave. Enjoy the darkness."
He was brought along several corridors, and then into a chill room which he could feel immediately was the one which held the kennel. He renewed his desperate struggles as he felt himself pushed further into the room, but dehydration made him weaker than usual. Strong hands on his shoulders pressed him to his knees, and he felt bonds clamp over his ankles once more. Someone grabbed the back of his neck and held his head down while others held his bound arms and pushed his torso towards the kennel.
Dread coursed through him when he realized they meant to push him in there in that hunched position. He would be immobile and bent over for half a day, with nothing to ease his cramped muscles or back, no room to stretch. The thought spurred him to thrash once more, to at least try to get them to put him into a more comfortable position. His attempts were fruitless, as they always were. Bound and helpless, the prince was unwillingly forced inside to face his punishment. He felt his shoulder pressed into one side of the kennel and as absolute fear overtook him he gave a single desperate wail before the door was slammed on his other side.
********
"Father!"
Faregon glanced up from a trade agreement he had been going over to see his young daughter rushing over to his side, excitement glittering in her green eyes. As soon as she reached him she launched herself up so she was sitting on his legs and facing him.
Faregon laughed at her show of youthful energy. "Hello, Thaerwyn!" He placed his large hand on her delicate shoulders, holding her back and looking over her.
She was clad in a silk blue dress and her black hair was bound up by ties that bore blue gems in them. A necklace of silver hung from her pale neck, a large sapphire coming to rest against her collarbone. She was eight years old, and the life and vigor of her youthfulness was clearly reflected in her face.
"My beautiful daughter." Faregon murmured, pulling the child into an embrace that she responded to in kind. "Where is your sister?" he asked as he pulled her back to look at her once more.
A scowl came over the young one's face at this, and she raised her chin. "She almost got into the potions again today in the healer's room. Nadraen is angry with her."
Faregon's eyebrows rose at this information. Kaswyn, his youngest daughter, was only a little more than a year old and was prone to escape the clutches of her caretakers and go to explore and get into messes, as are many children at that age. Something may happen to her one of these days.he thought. She just might get hold of what she's after.
"And where is she now?" Faregon asked, repeating his question.
"Sleeping." Thaerwyn said simply. "She got worn out from running from the ninnies."
"Nannies, sweetheart." Faregon corrected, although the former word may have very well described that bunch of women just as well. He could not fathom how they managed to keep losing Kaswyn.
"And what have you been doing?" Faregon asked then, grinning at Thaerwyn as she bounced a little in his lap.
Directing her eyes towards the ceiling, the young girl replied slowly. "Sitting in my room and painting like a good girl." It was a rehearsed answer, and one she had used many times. Then she lowered her voice an octave and continued in a snotty fashion, "Because it's dreadfully stormy outside and if I go to the stables I might get my dress dirty or catch cold."
"Now, now." Faregon chuckled, pulling her so her face was closer to his. "I don't really sound like that, do I?"
She nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin on her face. "You like sounding like that, father." she said.
"Do I, now?" A mischievous glint appeared in Faregon's eyes and he pressed his nose against hers. "And do you know what else I like to do?"
Thaerwyn was giggling softly now. "What?"
"I like to...tickle!" And with that he immediately began running the tips of his fingers all over his daughter's body until she was shrieking with laughter and writhing all over the place. Faregon was laughing heartily as he continued his relentless attack until a cleared throat interrupted them.
Looking up, the man saw Dantar standing at the entrance to the room, his arms folded. "Lord Faregon, I've come to inform you that I've had the Elf placed in the kennel again."
Thaerwyn glanced at the other man, then turned back to her father with curious eyes. "An Elf?" she asked, eyes full of inquiry.
Faregon's face darkened momentarily as he stared at Dantar, then softened when he turned back to his daughter. "Thaerwyn, would you please go check on your sister while I have a talk with Dantar?"
The girl nodded slowly, a sad light entering her eyes as she slid off of his lap and then hurried out of the room, gazing warily at Dantar as she exited. Once he was sure his daughter was well out of hearing range, Faregon stood and turned to the slave trader.
"What were you thinking?!" he hissed, advancing on the other man.
"What do–"
"Do not ask me that!" Faregon interrupted. "You will speak nothing of the Elf around my daughters. Nothing! They do not need to know what activities of which their father partakes in his absence."
"You are not going to tell them?" Dantar asked.
"The Elf is to be kept secret from them. If they found out that I am keeping him then they will grow curious and want to find out more about the creature. I do not want to risk my children getting near that beast!"
"Beast?" Dantar asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise at such a description of the elven prince.
"He may be the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, Dantar, but I know that if given the opportunity he would not hesitate to harm my daughters. He is dangerous."
"I see." the slave trader murmured. "I understand. My apologies, Lord Faregon."
"Just as long as you remember next time. Now, what were you saying?"
"The Elf is in the kennel." Dantar said, unfolding his arms.
"So soon?" Faregon asked, feeling a little disappointed but not outwardly showing it.
"It will leave more of a lasting impression on him if done this way. Elves are not like humans, and in this case that is both good and an inconvenience. If I had left him to recover from the time spent in the kennel, his fear of it might diminish. But putting him in it when the terror of his past experience is clear in his mind will make him remember it well."
"Will he be broken after this?" Faregon asked.
"No." Dantar said with a shake of his head. "It may seem so for perhaps more than an hour after his release. But even though his fear of the kennel is going to surely be great, his spirit will not have been fully broken. I know you are looking forward to training him yourself."
"Aye." Faregon smirked. "That is well, then." He turned back to the table and moved over to sit in the chair once more, picking up the momentarily forgotten trade agreement. "Has he been fed?"
"No." the other man replied. "But Elves can go very long without food. It is the thirst I am hoping will wear him down. He appears to be nearing the desired dehydration level. His skin was pale and he is getting weaker. But I do not recommend ever fully replenishing him until he is more well trained."
"So, do you believe he'll be ready for training after this time spent in confinement?"
"After the six hours I sentenced him to?" Dantar smirked. "Oh yes, you may train him then."
***********
For the longest time, an eternity it seemed, darkness and pain were Legolas's world. His entire body never ceased to tremble from the weariness and aching that plagued them from his painful position. He could feel the cold stone of the ceiling of the kennel pressing down upon him, and his neck muscles were wracked with spasms from his head being forced down. His jaw bone felt like it was on fire from being stretched for so long, and his throat was so dry that he could not swallow. He whimpered hopelessly in between intakes of breath, trying to keep his focus on gathering air into his lungs. His body wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest, but he would not let unconsciousness claim him. When it strove to take him under by force he fought it with all of his might, trying to ignore the way the sweat dripped down his body and face, making it nearly unbearably stuffy and hot under the hood. His occasional screams had gradually diminished until they were no more, his voice no longer able to create such a sound. The sole thoughts on his mind were to breathe and to endure. Breathe and endure.
After a long while, the darkness and pain became too much for the prince, and tears began to run from his eyes in a steady stream. He cursed himself for being so weak, but could do nothing to control the sobs that began to sound in his chest. It was simply too much, the blackness that covered him and the strain on his body that he was helpless to do anything to ease.
And when he sniffled, he felt panic wash over him as he became aware of another problem. He was becoming so congested that he couldn't inhale a sufficient enough amount of air through his nose. The airway from his mouth was completely blocked by the gag.
Whimpering, Legolas tried hard to writhe his body in its tight confinement, to drag in air through his nose. His heart hammered fiercely in his chest as he fought against his bonds and the walls. Pressing his face against the stone, he frantically rubbed the hood and gag against it, hoping they would come loose. Neither did, and with a sickening realization he found he could no longer breathe through his nose.
He was going to suffocate.
TBC...